


matched set

by GayFrankensteinsMonster



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Minor Injuries, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 12:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9727610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayFrankensteinsMonster/pseuds/GayFrankensteinsMonster
Summary: Julia is part of a rebellion, she's built some bombs in her time, and she's gotten a little messed up because of it.Magnus is part of a rebellion, he's gotten fairly drunk in his time, and he's gotten a little messed up because of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna do some plant gays soon i just love julia so much

Julia wore her hair over her eye.

It didn't matter so much, she couldn't do as much detail work as Magnus and her father, since depth perception was an issue there. But she could read and write, and when the two of them were busy working she would take down orders, do deliveries, assemble anything they hadn't yet put together. She wasn't useless. She reminded herself. She wasn't useless.

She just wore her hair over her eye.

Before she went to bed, she would slip on her headwrap, tucking loose black curls underneath and staring in the mirror. Now, she didn't have any problem with her face. She had a good face. Broad nose, plump lips and gap teeth. Not much of a jawline, bit of a double chin there, but it matched her round cheeks and figure. There was a thatch of scruff on her chin, matched the black whiskers on her cheeks. She sighed, hand raising out of her line of sight and touching her cheek.

It wasn't a vanity issue. Julia was not a vain person. She wasn't upset that it tarnished whatever natural beauty she had, wasn't upset about anything like that. It was stupid. It wasn't something heroic, it wasn't important. It was a stupid mistake that she had made by her goddamn self. It had been a cherry bomb. She'd been fooling around, trying to make something with the perfect amount of black powder and little metal fillings for maximum chaos. There had been a plate of metal that had scraped, sparks that caught. It was stupid. It was stupid and she'd woken up days later, bandage on her face, swollen and in pain.

Her fingers traced over the pink pockmarks over her cheek and eyebrow, skin pitted with divots. She blinked, scrunching her cheek with purpose. The thing that bothered her most, about all this, was the fact that her own stupid, stupid self had screwed this up. She did this shit herself. They didn't _match._ The one eye, still the same, still _normal,_ topped with thick eyelashes, golden iris partly obscured by a drooped eyelid. When she tugged her bangs over her other eye, she was _pretty._ She was _attractive._ When she tucked them away, it was grotesque. Pink scars, white, dead eye, staring off into nothing. She hated it. Maybe it was a little bit of a vanity issue. Maybe it was her not being able to help her family as much. Maybe she just wanted to be looked at by other people like she was a person.

So she wore her hair over her eye.

She sighed, tucked her hair up again, and made her way to crawl into bed. Maybe she'd feel better in the morning. It came in waves. She'd feel better in the morning, for sure. Idly, she wondered where Magnus was, stretching her hands out to pull his pillow against her and hug it tightly. It still smelled like him, mostly sweat, partially pinewood. They weren't always able to spend the night in the same bed, weren't married yet, prying eyes. There were a lot of reasons, but whenever they could, they tried.

Now where the hell was he?

She balled up tightly and yawned, eyes closing as she drifted off.

* * *

 

And was awoken by a loud bang and yelling coming from downstairs. She woke up with a start, bolting off the bed and grabbing her boots as she ran down the stairs. Something went wrong, and she was ready, she had her shoes pulled on, yanked her hair out and gathered it into a ponytail, where was her knife, her knife-

Magnus was being dragged in, face bloody and peppered with glass. He was grinning loopily and his arms were slung up around two of his friends’ shoulder. Julia stopped in her tracks, stumbling against the banister and staring openly.

“Jules!” Magnus crowed, one foot tripping over the other. “I'm real fucked up, oh man.”

She fumed and inhaled once, steadying her breathing. Okay. This was a fucking bad situation. She motioned his friends over to set him on the table. She could do this. She could fucking do this. She could rip glass out of her boyfriend's face. No problem! Big problem. This was bad. She shooed the other people out of her house and bustled away from the table to grab their medical kit. Scissors, forceps, needle and thread. She'd call a cleric in the morning, right now she needed to get this shit out of the way. Deep breath, and here we go. With jittery hands she pulled shards of green glass out of Magnus’ face, dropping it onto the lid of the kit.

“Julia- Jules, babe-”

“Shut up, stop talking. You've got glass in your face.”

He winced at a particularly hard tug, waiting until she was finished to talk again.

“I got- Shhhhhshh, Jules. Babe. I love you.”

“Did you get hit with a bottle?”

“It was- It was a guard, listen, I love you, and I think-”

Julia sloshed the bottle of antiseptic onto a rag, dabbing it against the cuts on his face. Magnus yelped, eye squeezed shut against the sting. She sighed, setting the rag down and probing his face with gentle fingers.

“Come on, I need to see if anything got into your eye.”

“It dinnit. Look. Looooook. I got, the identity, of that one- Of that guy who-”

“The courier?”

Magnus snapped his fingers and tapped Julia on the shoulder, the edge of his lip twitching up.

“Bingo. I got the curry. I,” And he drew out the letter, leaning back as Julia wiped at the edges of the jagged wounds. “I got ‘em. We’re gonna get this fight done. Weeee’re gonna _get it.”_

“Magnus, I barely know how to do this, if you keep talking I'm gonna let you bleed until I can get a cleric in here.”

He hushed up, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as she worked. Julia made quick work of it, looping needle and thread through skin to knit it back together. The edges were raised, sloppy, but it got the job done. Wouldn't heal pretty, that's for sure. She leaned back and sighed, dipping another scrap of cloth into a bucket of water to dab away at the dried blood on Magnus’ face.

“I'm, a lil bit drunk.”

“You're a lot drunk. You're lucky, it would've hurt more if you hadn't been.”

“Jules, we did it, we. Weeeee.” He stretched out the word, breath catching when he stretched a stitch. “We got it. We're gonna end this.”

“We're gonna end this. I know. I hate being the sensible one here, you know.”

“I know! That's, that's my job. You're a little-” And he moved to pick her up clumsily, sitting up and swooping her onto his lap. “You're my little firecracker,” The last syllable stretched out as Magnus nudged his injury-free cheek against Julia’s face, and she snorted.

“And you're my big puppy. You can't get hurt this bad again, okay? Maggie, I love your big, stupid ass too much for you to get hurt like this.”

Magnus looked sober for a moment, reaching up to hold on to Julia’s hand. He circled his thumb gently over a tiny scrape on her palm, looking like he was trying to focus. He licked his lips, furrowed his eyebrows, winced again as he pulled his stitches.

“I know. I love you. I love you, Jules.”

Julia wound the wet cloth around her free hand and dabbed at her boyfriend’s face again. This shouldn't be the kind of stupid situation they dealt with. If he cut his finger off with a table saw, if he got a splinter, if he- Those were things they should be dealing with. Inconsequential. Silly. They could get married and run the shop and have a whole fleet of dogs. That's what they were supposed to do. Not deal with rebellions. They weren't rebellion-leaders, folk-heros, day-savers. They were carpenters. Magnus leaned in and kissed her, lips tasting like copper and mead. His hands were rough against her skin, cupping her cheeks, tugging her hair out of her ponytail. She pulled back, one hand pressed against his chest.

“Come on, kiddo. Can we get you into bed?”

Magnus pulled back again and looked at her, eyebrows furrowed. The pad of his thumb brushed over her scar, down her cheek. He leaned in to kiss the ridge of her eyebrow, humming and nudging her with his nose.

“Hey, Jules?”

“Mm, you're deflecting cause you don't wanna sleep, aren't you. What's up?”

“We're gonna match.”

She went quiet, blinking once and reaching up to circle his wrist with her hands. She was a small person, by human standards. She had broad shoulders, solid arms, fat hips and belly, but she was _small,_ despite her definitely not being a dainty young lady. And somehow, Magnus made her feel small in a way that made her feel _safe._ He was a burly man, intimidating, but she knew him. She knew him, and he was home. She slid her hands up over his chest, gently unbuttoning his shirt and picking at the dried blood spots on the flannel.

“We’re gonna match, bub. Careful, I might leave your gross beardy butt cause you'll get sooo ugly.”

“Nooo. I'll get to look like you.”

“What d’you mean, _get_ to.”

Magnus shrugged out of his shirt and balled it up, setting it down next to him. Leaning in again, he skimmed his lips down her jaw, nuzzling into the side of her neck before hugging her tightly. His fists balled in her stolen sleepshirt. “You're beautiful.”

“Oh, shush, you're a sap.”

“You are. Jules?”

“Maggie?”

“I love you.”

Julia laced her hands through his hair, closing her eyes, breathing softly. She could get used to this. This was how it was supposed to be. She felt his breath evening out against her skin, felt him slumping further against her. She could spend the rest of her life like this.

“When this is over,” She punctuated her statement with a kiss against the shell of his ear, “I’m gonna propose to your dopey ass.”

* * *

 

She bought him a plain golden band and proposed after the fighting was over and done with, not able to add any bells and whistles because human tradition was stupid and expensive. She had been grinning broadly, kneeling, and he swooped her up and sobbed openly.

When they got married under the gazebo he had built, she tucked her bangs back in a halo of marigolds.


End file.
